Visiting Hours
by Michelle
Summary: Clint and Steve run into each other in a graveyard.


**Visiting Hours**

_Because I haven't read enough with these two set in the MCU. It struck me that these two are both loners and Big Damn Heroes, and I thought it would be interesting to see them becoming friends. So I wrote this.  
_

_I do realize that there are elements contained here that absolutely do not jive with comics canon, but I plead poetic license. _

_I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Clint arrived at the cemetery later than he had intended; Natasha was in South America, so he had to pick up some of her duties, and the new batch of recruits had a lot of bad habits that needed breaking.

Eventually though, he had to go. Today was an important day, and visiting hours ended at dusk. So he borrowed a car from Tony, stopped off at a flower shop, and drove to the familiar, little cemetery.

He pulled the Mercedes into the lot next to a few scattered Hondas and Fords. He took a deep breath, got out, and started walking the well trodden path. Maybe he was imagining it, but it got a little easier to walk this path every year.

He was rounding a bend in the road when another figure lifted itself up from the ground and turned into a familiar shape. Clint paused and looked closer.

"Steve?"

He made his way over to where Steve was standing in front of a tombstone, stopping beside him.

Clint quickly read the simple tombstone, and whoever Margaret Carter was, she died two years ago.

He wasn't sure what to say, so he just asked, "Who was she?"

Steve didn't look up, his expression a strange mixture of grim and wistful.

"A girl I knew a long time ago." Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. "We were supposed to go out dancing."

Clint already knew the answer, but he asked anyway; Steve would answer or he wouldn't. "What happened?"

"A plane crash and 70 years."

There really wasn't anything Clint could say to that, so he just stood there silently until Steve was done.

Steve didn't say anything until they were back walking along the path.

"I didn't expect to run into you here, Barton."

"Same."

Steve finally noticed the rose in Clint's hand. "Who's that for?"

Clint swallowed hard before he answered. "My, uh, mother." He pointed ahead of them and to the right. "She's over there."

They walked over to where Clint indicated. When they stopped, Clint placed his rose on top of one side of the double tombstone.

Steve didn't ask why there was no rose for the other Barton buried here.

Clint stared at the stone for a long time, taking in the letters that were just a little more worn than they were last year.

Eventually, Clint broke the silence.

"My father killed her."

He didn't like to talk about this stuff. Natasha was the only other living person who knew the whole story; large parts of it weren't even in his SHIELD dossier. But something about the sun or the grass or the dirt or whatever it was, something was making him bypass his usual reticence.

"He was drunk and she went out with him for cigarettes. When, uh, the cops showed up the next morning, they put us into foster care."

"Us?" Steve asked.

Clint nodded. In for a penny . . .

"My older brother and I. That was 33 years ago. Today, actually."

Clint stopped then. He'd said enough, thought enough about this shit for one day. Steve, being who he was, didn't press the issue.

"Um, I don't mean to be rude or anything, but uh . . ." Clint started.

Steve nodded understandingly. "I'll give you a minute."

Steve walked across the gravel path to lean against a tree while he waited, pulling out his new StarkPhone. It might have taken Steve a while to acclimatize to the new millennium, but adjust he did.

Softly, even though he knew Steve could probably hear him anyway, Clint had his yearly chat with his mother.

"So, Mom. It's been another year, and I know I always say that I'm going to come more often, and I'm sorry that I didn't. You know, again. But I've been kind of busy. You might have heard I, uh, helped save the world."

Clint liked to imagine she would be proud of him.

"It was close, but we really did it. We saved the world. The entire world. And then we had shawarma." He smiled, laughing a little.

Clint swallowed, not certain why this next part was making him so nervous. It wasn't like his mother could actually hear him, and he didn't care that Steve was graciously pretending like he couldn't hear what Clint was saying. One way or the other, everyone was going to find out soon enough anyway.

"Natasha was there with me, too, saving the world. You remember Natasha, right? She's the one who's been coming with me the past couple years to visit you. She, uh, saved my life. Again."

And here it was, the really hard part. Clint chuckled nervously.

"So, um, I'm going to ask her to marry me. Got a ring and everything. I'm pretty sure she's going to say yes, but I wanted you to be the first to know."

Clint expelled his breath and touched the tombstone. "I love you, Mom. See you next year. Hopefully, I'll bring my wife with me."

He turned away and walked over to where Steve was waiting.

"You ready?" He asked Steve, who nodded and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"Yep."

They started heading back toward the entrance together.

"It was nice to have company here." Steve said, half a smile on his face.

"Well, um, just let me know if you want company next time."

"Will do." They've come to the edge of the cemetery. "Want to share a cab?"

Clint pulled the keys out of his pocket. "I borrowed one of Tony's cars. Need a ride?"

"Yeah, sure."

Clint gives him credit. Steve waited a whole five seconds after they got into the car before asking.

"So, you and Natasha?"


End file.
